Mark My Words
by KokoNao
Summary: King Fakir finally has control over his neighboring kingdom, has won the war, and is now feared by all. However, when he receives a sex slave as a gift from the kingdom he captured, what he doesn't know is that he's in for a lot of problems.


**A/N:**** Yay my first story! And it's a Princess Tutu one! *excited***

**I hope you guys like the first chapter! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer! I do not own the anime or the manga of Princess Tutu!**

**Chapter 1**

"Sir, we have finished confiscating their weaponry and disabled all their communications with outside resources and aid. They are helpless beings now, and we have officially gained complete control over their city."

A pleased smile crept onto the young man's face, and he nodded to the general of his army. "Thank you, Autor. Fetch their royals, will you?"

"Yes sir!" The soldier bowed obediently, quickly pushed his glasses up his nose and scurried off to complete his king's order.

Fakir, in the meantime, leaned back on his throne, letting out a sigh of relief as he ran his fingers through his hair. This was by far the best day he had ever had in many years as king of his city. God knew the last time he felt completely relaxed ever since he took control of his father's city as a seventeen year-old teenager. He never knew he'd actually be able to win a war and end up having control over another kingdom, but as his father said before he died, he must've truly had kingly blood in him.

"Here they are, sir." Autor's voice broke Fakir's thoughts, and he sat up to face the three figures in front of him properly. "Thank you, Autor." Fakir said, and took off one of his gold armbands, handing it to the ecstatic general, whose eyes shone brightly. "Accept this as a token of my appreciation."

"Your majesty is too kind!" Autor said, half-hyperventilating at the royal gift in front of him, and scampered out again at Fakir's wave of his hand, signaling him as dismissed for the moment, leaving the king alone with the three royals of the captured city.

Fakir cleared his throat and rose from his throne, starting to descend down the steps to observe the three human beings properly.

The girl on the farther left had wavy raven-black hair that cascaded elegantly all the way down to her waist, and her entire body was draped in a red and black dress that was torn along the bottom edges. A golden crown with blazing-bright jewels was nestled in her hair, and her dark, angry red eyes were red from, what Fakir thought, lack of sleep or crying.

The young man in the middle must've been about Fakir's age, and he assumed that he was the former king of the kingdom, the king who he had heard so much about- King Mytho. As Fakir had heard, he had snow-white hair in which a larger crown was resting, and his attire -a white cape and purple suit- were majorly ripped as well. His golden eyes peered at Fakir tiredly, yet Fakir could sense that there was still some fire and anger raging in them.

The girl on the right looked rather different than her two companions. She had half-pink, half-white hair, which Fakir observed as strange. She wore a white dress that had some blood-red stains on it, yet her ocean-blue eyes remained bright. On her feet, strangely, were ballet slippers, and she wore an odd necklace from which a purple and red butterfly-like ornament hung. _"Princess Tutu, hm?"_ Fakir thought, raising an eyebrow. _"I guess she _does_ exist."_

"Are you quite done walking in circles?" An impatient voice demanded. "We don't have all day for this folliness!"

Fakir looked up to see that the black-haired girl was directly staring at him. "And who might you be?" He asked coolly.

"Rue." The girl responded immediately. _"Princess_ Rue." She added, and Fakir noticed she quickly glared at the girl on the king's other side.

Fakir nodded, starting to walk over to the angry girl. "All right then, _Princess_ Rue. Why don't you shut that little mouth of yours and-"

"Don't speak to her that way!" Another voice angrily cut off Fakir, who whipped around to see the king glaring at him, his teeth gritted. Fakir chuckled. "Why? Do you hate it when people speak to your lover that way, King Mytho?" He sneered. "Because if you do, then why don't you marry her and make her your queen? I'm sure it'd make _everything_ better, as you'd have a little something on the side after a _long_ day of ruling-"

"Shut up! King Mytho is more obviously more honorable then you'll _ever_ be!"

Three pairs of eyes widened and turned to stare at the small girl, none of them believing that the previous insult had just rolled out of her lips. Her blue eyes were now downcast, as if she was afraid to meet the angry king's response, her pink lips pursed worriedly. Fakir's brows furrowed, and he walked over to her, the sound of his sharp footsteps the only sound being omitted in the silent throne room. "You're Princess Tutu, aren't you?" He asked.

The girl silently flinched at the name, but didn't respond, her eyes still not looking up at the king.

Fakir grew impatient, wondering how someone could ever disobey him, and he grabbed her arm, which was adorned with a bracelet with golden pearls, and she looked up, her bright blue eyes suddenly angry with his action. "Respond to my question, girl! Are you or are you not Princess Tutu?"

"Yes, I am Princess Tutu!" She writhed, yanking her arm back from his grasp.

"Are we done?" Rue demanded again, crossing her arms, which were covered with shackles. "We're ready to start negotiating about our share of the prize."

Fakir raised an eyebrow. "What prize?"

"We both won this war!" Mytho said angrily, "Don't we deserve our share?"

Fakir started to laugh, not believing what lies were coming out of these fools' mouths. "Fools! You're not earning anything! I have control over your city, and there's _nothing_ you can do to stop it!" The king immediately turned on his heels, pointing at the shocked three, who were now being held by their shackles by his soldiers. "Take these 'royals' to the dungeons!" He commanded.

(line)

Fakir started to tap his foot impatiently, his arms crossed over his chest. "Am I or am I not allowed to go inside, minister?" He asked, feeling as if he had already asked the question ten times in the past five minutes.

"Almost ready, your majesty!" The minister's voice rung out, and Fakir sighed, not believing that he had to wait. He was a king, not a watchman.

_"Apparently, there's some gift for me...?"_ Fakir wondered, his mind slowly recollecting the words his minister had said a few moments ago, _"A gift from the city?"_

"Ready, your majesty!" The minister slipped out of Fakir's bedroom, and gestured to the door. "Me, as well as our whole army, present to you your gift from the city we have captured. We hope you are satisfied, my lord." And with that, the man disappeared from Fakir's sight, bowing in front of him.

Fakir raised an eyebrow, confused, and then shrugged, knowing it wouldn't hurt to see what was the present. He reached out and grabbed the door handle, opening the door and closing it behind him. As he looked up, he inhaled a low gasp.

There, on his bed, was a small, red-headed girl sitting, her expression rather frightened as she looked at her surroundings. Her bright blue eyes were timid as she took in the sight of the soft bed, the dimmed lights, and her uniform- a bright purple silk dress only, yet a golden necklace with a red ruby hung from it, and a golden thread hanging from her wrist- Fakir himself was having a hard time breathing.

He slowly walked over to his bed, and the girl looked at him, her face even more afraid. Fakir couldn't tell why, as he was a person who could usually tell things about people from one look, but he couldn't tell what kind of person this girl was, as if she was some kind of locked box. He slid onto the bed and wrapped his arms around the girl's shoulders, and she shivered at the cool touch. Her smell was that of a stream of water, as if he were in a calm area, and he loved it. His hands slid down to her back, and he found what he was looking for. "What's your name?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper, and she gasped as he slowly slid down the metal zipper. "A-Ahiru."

"Ahiru." Fakir's voice tested it slowly, and he slowly yet firmly set her down on the bed, zipping down the rest of the dress. Continuing the same, slow manner, he slid the dress off of her and could feel her breathing starting to quicken. He then pressed his lips against hers, and, to his surprise, she responded willingly. She broke off the kiss for a moment to let out a small moan, and he loved the sound. He wanted to hear it again so much, and he found himself grabbing her hands with one of his own and placing them above her head firmly in his grasp, ignoring her weak protests.

"Let me go!" Ahiru's shrill voice yelled, but Fakir wouldn't listen to her. He wasn't going to let this little one get the better of him. Instead, he gazed at her small body hungrily, not believing how perfect she looked. Those breasts...they were so round and full, and her smell was intoxicating, that he wanted more...

Fakir immediately went into her chest, kissing it and rounded his mouth around one nipple.

"N-No, please!" Ahiru begged, her voice pleading, but Fakir didn't care. He wanted her to beg, and started to suck it hard, loving the moan that escaped her lips as he did.

Then, he wrapped his arms around her waist and got on top of her, ignoring her further begging. He was ready to start the fun.


End file.
